


The Stranger in the Garden

by Ammar



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Forum: Goldenlake, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ammar/pseuds/Ammar
Summary: A novice at the Verdant Circle temple in Wanhae encounters a particular renegade nanshur. Slice of life-ish. BM AU.





	The Stranger in the Garden

It all began with the stranger at the gate of the temple; the young man with mischievous grey-green eyes, bleeding out from crossbow bolts rammed straight through his shoulder. Another protruded just slightly above his collarbone. A bloodied gash along his shirt showed where he had been cut, presumably by a sword.  
  
Many things were supposed to happen, that afternoon.  
  
There were supposed to be two novices guarding the temple gate, at all times. But Dairen and Laiyu had decided to skip off from their chores to watch the afternoon demonstrations by Dedicate Frostsilk.   
  
And Fa Zhaixu was supposed to be with them, except she’d been put on punishment duty for the next month because she’d accidentally put out the scrying incense in the temple and dropped a few clay offering bowls and shattered them.  
  
For all of these infractions, the Dedicate Superior, Honoured Starfire, had tasked her to work with the temple gardener, Dedicate Osmanthus. Truth to be told, Zhaixu didn’t mind the work. Osmanthus was kind, if gruff, and while he was an exacting taskmaster, she admired how much he knew about the healing properties of plants.  
  
Still, all these punishment duties _had_ to come while Frostsilk was at Verdant Circle…  
  
Fa Zhaixu raked enviously at the fallen leaves cluttering the paved path that led from the gate. Her broom scratched at the stones of the path. _Always be a stone_ , said Dedicate Eagleeye, her teacher. _Be the stone on the empty path_ , he’d tell her. _No clutter. Only discipline_.  
  
Osmanthus, it seemed, thought the same way. “It’s cleaning, girl,” he’d told her. “Cleaning is good for the mind and the body. And good for the garden.”  
  
“What do you want me to do with the leaves?” she’d asked.  
  
“Rake them into a pile,” Osmanthus said, pointing with his thumb to the corner of the garden. “We’ll deal with them later.”  
  
Discipline and uncluttering was all and very well, but it was Frostsilk. Frostsilk was easily one of the best Metal Dedicates that Verdant Circle had ever produced; named, it was said, for the way she flowed through thinsword techniques like silk; for the way her sword flashed through form after form like moonlight on ice.  
  
Fa Zhaixu _wanted_ to see Frostsilk at work, had, secretly, hoped to become half as good as Frostsilk was. After all, didn’t half the Metal novices worship the ground she walked on?  
  
No clutter, thought Zhaixu. Only discipline.  
  
She swept at the leaves.  
  
Then, the young man stumbled against the temple gate on this sunlit afternoon, and into her life.  
  


* * *

  
He was injured, this much was clear. He was clutching his shoulder, and Zhaixu could see two crossbow bolts protruding from it. She saw the third a moment later, lodged just a few milimetres above his collarbone.   
  
She couldn’t see signs of anyone in pursuit.  
  
She gripped the broom handle, tightly—it could be used as a staff, if needs must—and went out to the gate to meet him.  
  
“Are you all right?” she asked. Felt, almost instantly, that the question was inadequate. He had been shot at by someone with a crossbow; she had no doubt that ‘all right’ was absolutely not how he was feeling at the moment.  
  
His eyes gleamed, bemused. “I’ve…been better,” he managed, almost grey from the pain. Still, if he could joke, he wasn’t that badly hurt.  
  
“Is there anyone? I mean, are they following you?”  
  
He shook his head. “Not that…I can tell. Do you always…ask patients so many questions?”  
  
Zhaixu pressed her lips together. _That_ , she did not appreciate. “I need to know if we need to hold off a mob at the gate. We’re…sort of understaffed at the moment. Look, can you wait here a moment? I’ll get my teacher.” And end up ratting out Dairen and Laiyu, who’d be certain to take it out on her between classes or during mealtimes.  
  
“Aren’t…all the Living Circle temples…built the same?”  
  
She shook her head. “Not in the eastern lands,” she informed him. “Wait here. I’ll get Dedicate Osmanthus.”  
  
“I’m not…going anywhere,” the young man said, as he settled down on the path. “Not with all these crossbow bolts…in me.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Well,” said Dedicate Lotusriver, peering critically at the young man. “This is quite a situation you’ve put in our hands, Fa Zhaixu.”  
  
Leaning against the doorframe of the treatment room in the Water Temple, Zhaixu swallowed. She didn’t need to be in more trouble than she was already in. Dedicate Osmanthus had been performing the afternoon rites in the Earth Temple—it’d been his turn to do so, this year—and he hadn’t been pleased about being dragged out in the middle of consecrating the soil offerings to Meilan Earthmother. The soil, Zhaixu knew, would later be distributed across the temple gardens, meant to bring them further in harmony with the Living Circle.  
  
The flow of living energy was extremely important, and many of the rites within Verdant Circle was meant to husband that energy, to ensure that they were in fact living in harmony with it.  
  
Such brought prosperity, luck, and health.  
  
Dedicate Osmanthus shook his head. “She didn’t know,” he said, bluntly. “Doesn’t excuse what she did, but she didn’t know, all the same.”  
  
“What didn’t I know?” Zhaixu asked. A rat seemed to be gnawing away in her stomach.  
  
“These crossbow bolts?” Lotusriver said, gesturing to the two bolts she’d snapped and withdrawn from the young man, who was now lying back, with admirable stillness, waiting for her to remove the third. “The fletching indicates that they’re from the Imperial Guard. No one else is permitted to fletch their arrow with imperial gold.”  
  
“Hakkoi's hammer,” Zhaixu whispered, appalled by the enormity of what that _meant_.  
  
“Exactly,” Osmanthus said. He folded his brawny arms across his chest and looked at the young man. “Perhaps you’d best begin by telling us how you’d gotten shot at by the Imperial Guard, hmm?”  
  
“Didn’t do anything wrong,” muttered the young man on the bed.  
  
“And,” Lotusriver said, ignoring both of them, “You’d better tell me why, exactly, it’s so difficult to coax those crossbow bolts out of you. You’re a nanshur, aren’t you?”   
  
“Yes,” the young man said. He hesitated, but then—with his good arm—he reached beneath his clothing and produced an inscribed medallion. “There.”  
  
Zhaixu’d seen these before. She _knew_ what it meant, and she knew what it meant, for someone this young to be producing that kind of nanshur’s credentials.  
  
“May I?” Lotusriver asked. She waited for his nod and then she touched the medallion, with the tip of a finger. She blinked, surprised, and then looked at Osmanthus and nodded.  
  
“So,” Osmanthus said. “You’re a nanshur who was shot at by the Imperial Guard and ended up on our doorstep. You’re a spy, aren’t you?” He levelled that last accusation in a flat, blank voice.  
  
“I’m not a spy,” the young man replied. He kept his medallion away.  
  
The almost-translucent jade disc hanging prominently on a leather cord around Osmanthus’s neck darkened. So did Osmanthus’s expression, when he noticed the threads of black running through the stone, like ink. “Explain,” he said.  
  
The young man noticed the disc and rolled his eyes. “Stone magic is like that,” he muttered. “Lakik’s teeth, you people should know that things aren’t always that straightforward.”  
  
“Aren’t they?” Osmanthus wanted to know. “Then let me _make_ them simple for you, boy. You come running up to our gate, wanting our healers to treat you. You were shot at by Imperial Guardsmen. And until you recover, we can’t just boot you out into the street—the healer’s code forbids that, and I’d bet you know that, since you recognised the concotion Lotusriver was trying to give you for the pain. And that’s assuming you don’t claim sanctuary at the temple, in which case, we’re duty-bound to shelter and protect you. So. You tell me why you haven’t been abusing our hospitality and our laws, boy, and come clean with us.”  
  
The young man sighed. “If I’m some kind of criminal or spy, as you fear,” he pointed out, sensibly, “Then telling you will only make you even more accomplices than you already are. As it is, you can still claim to turn me over to them as soon as I’ve recovered.”  
  
“If you don’t seek sanctuary.”  
  
“I swear I won’t,” the young man said. “By Mila of the Grain and the Green Man; by all I hold dear, by my _shakkan_ and my garden. Does that make you feel any better?”  
  
“Somehow, I’m not reassured,” Osmanthus said, dryly.  
  
“I’m the last person to want to bring trouble to a Living Circle temple,” the young man continued, pressing on stubbornly. “But I couldn’t make my way out of Wanhae this way, and they have my mage kit and my _shakkan_ and I’d like them back.” Zhaixu noticed his hands clenching, almost-reflexively, into fists at his side. In a few moments, he sighed and relaxed them again. “To do that, I need to get my ouches made better first.”  
  
The disc remained clear, Zhaixu noticed. Osmanthus had, too.  
  
“So you are a spy, then.”  
  
The young man grinned at Osmanthus. “Haven’t we been over this part already?” he wanted to know.  
  
“Osmanthus,” Lotusriver said, calmly, “Stop bothering the patient. You can deal with him later. I have one more crossbow bolt to remove. Zhaixu, since you’re here, you can make yourself useful. Get me the extractor from the tray on that table. This bolt is lodged deep and I’ll need to cut it out of him as painlessly as possible.”  
  
Zhaixu obeyed.  
  


* * *

  
  
There was the evening meal, but Zhaixu was not hungry. She grabbed a few steamed pork buns from the kitchens, wrapped them in a clean cloth, and then found herself wandering towards the Water Temple; towards the young man who’d stumbled into Verdant Circle just this afternoon, and had somehow managed to change things.  
  
She just didn’t know if it was a good change or a bad change, just yet.  
  
She knocked, hesitantly, on the door.  
  
“Come in,” the young man said.  
  
He was resting on the bed, one leg propped on the other, his hands pillowed behind his head. He grinned lazily at her as she comes in. “Is that food I smell?”  
  
She nodded. “Thought you might want something to eat. If I’m not intruding.”  
  
“You aren’t,” the young man said. He waited patiently as she pulled up a chair, and then opened up the bundle and handed him a pork bun. Their hands touched.  
  
She noticed that he had what Osmanthus would’ve called gardener’s hands: all callused, with one nail broken, and smudges that she thought was dirt lodged under them, until they _moved_ , and then she realised, startled, that what she’d taken to be a tattoo of a flowering vine on both his hands was actually _moving_ , sprouting flowers, and even growing clusters of grapes.  
  
She blinked. “What are those?” Zhaixu asked, surprised.  
  
He grimaced, and yanked his hands away. “I’m a nanshur, remember? My magic is with plants. I wanted a tattoo and I used vegetable dyes and magic needles. One of the more bleat-brained things I’d ever done.”  
  
“Magic needles?”  
  
“One of my sisters is a stitch witch,” he said, biting into the pork bun. “Mfffhh, this is good.”  
  
“Dedicate Zhao is one of the best cooks in Wanhae,” Zhaixu said, with vicarious pride. “The Emperor himself has eaten at Verdant Circle before.”  
  
The young man cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”  
  
He sounded far too interested.  
  
“Did you try to kill the Emperor or something?”  
  
“Ha!” he scoffed, and took another bite of his pork bun. “Nice try, kid. No, nothing like that.”  
  
“But then—”  
  
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said. “That’s all.”  
  
“That’s all it took for them to start shooting at you?” Zhaixu asked, sceptically.  
  
He met her look with a gaze of bland innocence. “You mean it takes more’n that for the Imperial Guard to go after a fellow?”  
  
She chewed on that, and her pork bun. “The Imperial Guard doesn’t just go after travellers, though. They safeguard the Emperor’s interests. Who _are_ you?”  
  
“Me?” he flashed her a guileless smile; all white teeth. “I’m Briar Moss. Didn’t catch your name, though.”  
  
“Fa Zhaixu,” she said. “I’m a Metal novice, here at Verdant Circle.”  
  
He frowned. “What’s a Metal novice? I only know of the four classical elements.” He counted them off, one by one, on his fingers. “Fire. Air. Earth. Water.” He reached for another bun, then.  
  
“The elements change,” Zhaixu said, just a little surprised he didn’t know. “Here in the eastern lands, adherents of the Living Circle worship gods of the five elements. Some temples have a Wood Temple, rather than an Earth Temple and venerate Kusai Keeneye, god of woodworkers, ships, and archers.”  
  
“Huh,” Briar said. “And the Metal Temple?”  
  
“Metalworkers, warriors, traders,” she recited. This, she knew. She’d taken her novice vows because she’d seen—only once—Dedicate Swiftblade in battle, her long-handled axe sweeping in rolling sequences of counters and cuts that no bandit could stand against. She still dreamed of that maelstrom of steel and speed, wanted to stand at the epicentre of such a hurricane. Wanted to master it. “Here, we venerate Hakkoi the Smith, Lord Vermillion, and Shui the Judge.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “Lord Vermillion’s the god of war and warriors. Shui the Judge is the goddess of justice.”  
  
“It’s Shurri Firesword and Hakkoi in the west,” Briar said. “One of my sisters used to be apprenticed to a Dedicate in the Fire Temple, back at Winding Circle.” He grinned. “She had to grow very familiar with the feastdays and festivals and rites of both of them.”  
  
“How many sisters do you have, anyway?”  
  
“Three of them,” he said. For the first time since she’d met him, his expression looked troubled; she could read the raw longing in his eyes.  
  
“Where are they?”  
  
“Back home,” he shrugged. “Or travelling. Sandry—that’s the stitch witch, is back in Emelan. Probably helping her uncle run things. Last I heard, Daj’ was travelling to Namorn to learn more about metalwork with her teacher. And Tris’s been all over the place, really.”  
  
Zhaixu blinked, trying to take in the immensity of that distance. She knew where Emelan was on a map, of course, but it was nowhere near in proximity to Yanjing. “Oh,” was all she could bring herself to say. “You’re a long way from home then.”  
  
“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

* * *

  
  
The commander of the Imperial Guard herself came in to see Honoured Starfire, and Zhaixu happened to be drafted to handle the chores that accompanied such a visit. She cleaned out the Dedicate Superior’s study, and poured tea, keeping her eyes carefully lowered.  
  
She looked, though. Discreetly, but she still looked. No Metal novice could’ve taken their vows before the central altar in Verdant Circle and know nothing about the famous commander of the Imperial Guard. The previous commander had been lazy; the Guard had been a good place for nobles to establish important connections at court, but good for nothing. But then, the Emperor had the man executed for treason or incompetence or some other crime—Zhaixu couldn’t remember what and hadn’t even been born at that time—and then Kaifei had been installed in his place.  
  
She had changed everything; had transformed the Imperial Guard into the most competent force within Dohan and the Empire at large.  
  
Even the lamellar armour she wore with a casual ease had been an improvement from the ceremonial plate that the Guard wore: it’d only weighed them down, and, or so her teachers had claimed, it couldn’t even stop a decent sword. This, though, was what soldiers who needed a significant amount of mobility wore, and it was probably treated for resilience.  
  
A crossbow was slung across Kaifei’s back; she bore one visible dagger on her belt, sheathed next to a sword. The only thing she really lacked, thought Zhaixu, was a polearm. It was clear that Kaifei was a warrior, through and through, and that she took her duties to the Emperor seriously.  
  
And now, she was talking to Honoured Starfire about Briar.  
  
Zhaixu imagined the broom, sweeping clean the garden path of leaves. She could feel the rough wooden shaft in her hands, could feel the cracked texture of the wood against her palms. She breathed out her nervousness. She was just a novice, she reminded herself, attending to the Dedicate Superior’s guest. There was no reason to be nervous.  
  
Even if Kaifei was dangerous, and even if she could be in more trouble if the commander knew she’d been the one to find Briar.  
  
“I understand you’ve taken in a stranger,” Kaifei began, her fingers curling around her teacup. She did not mince words. “In particular, a stranger who’s wanted for espionage.”  
  
Honoured Starfire met Kaifei’s gaze impassively. “You seem to be better informed than I am, Commander,” he remarked.  
  
Kaifei sipped her tea and set down the cup. “I do not like to waste your time, Honoured Starfire,” she said, reprovingly. “I would appreciate not having my time wasted as well.”  
  
Honoured Starfire said, “In this, we are in agreement. I do not know who has been taken in by the Water Temple. Charity is the cornerstone of the Living Circle, Commander. All Living Circle temples are obligated to practise it. The Water Temple takes in and treat all who are in need of healing, no matter who they are. The Earth Temple feeds the hungry. The Air Temple teaches them to read. The Fire Temple teaches them skills, and the Metal Temple teaches those with the interest self-defence. If the Dedicates of the Water Temple told me about every single person who had to be admitted into Verdant Circle for treatment, I would never be able to run the temple complex.”  
  
“Then you would not mind two of my best men searching the Water Temple for a spy who matches the description of the man we have been pursuing.”  
  
“Unfortunately, I must refuse,” Honoured Starfire said, firmly. “We are Dedicates first, and citizens of the Empire second. You know this. The Living Circle temple is politically neutral and takes in all who are in need of assistance. To this end, I cannot permit your men to search the temple for a spy who may not even be on the premises.”  
  
Kaifei stiffened, and Zhaixu knew there was going to be trouble. Imperial doctrine now said that the Emperor was also the Son of Heaven, and that he was by nature divine. Talk of the Living Circle was increasingly volatile, and surely Honoured Starfire had to know that. “And then?” demanded Kaifei. “Are you granting him sanctuary?”  
  
“We grant sanctuary to all who seek it,” replied Honoured Starfire. “However, we do not shield criminals. They, too, must be brought to justice.”  
  
It was the way of the Metal Temple, Zhaixu knew. It was just that the Living Circle’s notion of justice didn’t always match with what kings and emperors had in mind. And Kaifei knew that too.  
  
“Let me make the Emperor’s position clear,” she said. “The spy has fled with extremely sensitive and dangerous information concerning imperial ventures in other lands. He has removed a valuable imperial asset, and killed ten of my best men. Another five are being tended to by healers and may recover. He is not to be trifled with. He is a nanshur, and a dangerous and cunning one, and if you take him into your temple, you’d best be certain he doesn’t burn it down when you’re not looking.”  
  
“Thank you for your advice,” Honoured Starfire said. “I will consider it most carefully.”  
  
Zhaixu tried to think of it: of Briar, with his lazy smile, killing fifteen of the Empire’s most dangerous warriors, of beating Kaifei at her own game and stealing imperial information. She didn’t know how it made her feel. Scared, perhaps. And yet he didn’t seem dangerous. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?  
  
“You should,” Kaifei said, dryly. “A word of warning, Dedicate Superior. The Emperor has so far chosen to respect Living Circle neutrality. This position can easily change.”  
  
Honoured Starfire gave an elegant nod, acknowledging the comment. “I hear and understand, Commander. I regret that I’m unable to be of more assistance.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“What are you doing?” Zhaixu asked. “And is that plant—”  
  
“Hmm?” Briar turned up his face to look at her. “Oh, hello. The plant’s greeting me, yes. It’s rather excited, actually, and it knows it’s long overdue for a pruning. Seems like you might want to tell your teacher about that.”  
  
“He’s not quite my teacher,” Zhaixu said, quietly. “As I told you, I’m with the Metal Temple. Dedicate Osmanthus is an Earth Dedicate.”  
  
“Don’t mean you can’t learn from him.” Briar sighed regretfully as the plant pulled away from him. “I’ve learned from more Dedicates than my own teacher, and he reminds me of my own, actually. Is this a desert rose?”  
  
She nodded, glad she’d paid attention to Osmanthus. “Dedicate Riverrush brought this, actually. He’s travelled a lot, all the way to the Kingdoms of the Sun.”  
  
For some reason, Briar stiffened at the mention of that place.  
  
“I see,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.  
  
“You never did answer my question,” she prompted.  
  
“I didn’t, did I?” he smirked. “Well, I’m getting to know your plants. I’m a plant mage, remember? And these are some beauties you’ve got here. Comparable with the Emperor’s gardens, come to think of it.”  
  
“Really?” Zhaixu asked. “Dedicate Osmanthus will be pleased to hear it. We’ve all heard stories of the fabled beauty of the Emperor’s gardens.”  
  
Briar shrugged. “They’re half-true,” he admitted. “The Emperor shows a great deal of…fixation,” she got the sense he was choosing his words carefully, “With how his garden should be. He pays a lot of attention to his plants.”  
  
“That’s how it should be,” Zhaixu said, firmly. She’d learned that lesson, at least. “It’s why we keep having to get down and rearrange the rocks and dirt and plants every month or so. Bad arrangements can affect the flow of energy and damage sensitive magical workings. It’s important to align everything correctly. Dedicate Osmanthus tends to get the novices on punishment duty to do that.” She gave him a faint smile.  
  
“And I take it you’re being punished, then?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Because of me?”  
  
Zhaixu snorted. “No, although Osmanthus said he was tempted to extend my punishment. No, I mixed up some of the incense and I dropped a few offering bowls. Honoured Starfire was really unhappy.”  
  
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you’re a—what’d you call that—Metal novice. So you fight.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“You dropped those bowls on purpose, didn’t you?”  
  
She looked away, paused in the middle of her sweeping. Finally, she said, “I _like_ Dedicate Osmanthus.” Admission. “I like learning about plants, about healing. And I like my lessons with Dedicate Eagleeye. I like learning how to fight. But you can’t have both, not really. They’re from different temples.”  
  
It was Briar’s turn to snort, now. “Why not?” he wanted to know. “Being from different temples shouldn’t stop you from learning from them. It’s bleat-brained of them to try stopping you.”  
  
“It’s just not done,” she said, frustrated. It was hard to explain how the temples kept to themselves, largely; how the rivalry between the Fire Temple and the Metal Temple or the Metal and Earth Temples meant that going to a Dedicate from the other temple for lessons felt like—and was often regarded as—some sort of intangible betrayal.  
  
“So?” Briar scoffed. “I’d bet my best knife that Dedicate Osmanthus doesn’t care. And neither should you.”  
  
“You have a best knife?”  
  
He flicked it free, in a blur of motion that Zhaixu could barely catch; flipped it up in the air, let it turn a few lazy revolutions, and then caught it. The wire-wrapped hilt slapped into the palm of his hand with a meaty _smack_.  
  
He offered it to her, hilt-first. “It’s well-balanced,” Briar said, at last. “And you can use it for all sorts of things: throwing, slashing…it’s a pretty versatile knife. And…” he grinned, sheepishly. “My sister made it for me. So I keep it on me all the time.”  
  
“Dedicate Lotusriver didn’t find this,” Zhaixu said, testing the knife. The edge was sharp; all she had to do was to lay a single fraying thread across the edge and it came apart. She handed it back to him.  
  
“No,” he agreed. “She didn’t. Got to have a few tricks, you know?”  
  
“I guess,” Zhaixu said, unconvinced. She resumed her sweeping. As she did, she caught sight of movement in the house on the opposite street and froze. She thought she’d seen it—that’d been just her, but Briar had gone slightly still as well.  
  
“Don’t look so obvious,” he told her. “Or they’ll know you’ve spotted them.”  
  
“You’ve been watching them, haven’t you? That’s why you’re here.”  
  
Briar shrugged. “Guilty,” he admitted, cheerfully. “But I also did really want to see your plants. It’s been a while.”  
  
“Who are they?”  
  
“Who do you think?” he asked, by way of an answer. “I count three in this house, and another five four houses down.”  
  
“Why do they want you so badly?” Zhaixu asked, sweeping the path all this while. _Sweeping clears the mind_ , Osmanthus had said, but her mind was buzzing with so many thoughts and questions.  
  
Briar did not reply.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Are you making tea?”  
  
Zhaixu started, and almost dropped the teapot, which would have been a disaster: the pot was a clay antique, and Dedicate Zhao would’ve probably had her expelled from Verdant Circle or at least saddled with _years_ of punishment if she’d managed to break it.  
  
“Yes,” she said, after she’d recovered. “Hakkoi’s hammer, Briar, don’t creep up on someone like that!”  
  
He grinned, unrepentant. “That’s what my sisters used to say,” he said, contentedly. “What are you doing, anyway? And why isn’t this in the kitchen?”  
  
She scooped a heaping spoonful of tea leaves and scattered them into the teapot. The copper kettle was heating up nicely on the stove.   
  
“It’s an antechamber,” she replied, electing to answer his second question first. “Right next to the meditation rooms. In winter, the tea gets cold fast if we have to run it straight from the kitchens to the meditation rooms. And here, we’re tapping directly into the heating system. Right now, Dedicate Kingfisher will be leading the novices and some other Dedicates through their evening meditation session.”  
  
“But not you.”  
  
She didn’t look at him. “Punishment duty, remember?” Zhaixu said, keeping her voice light. “That means I spend most of the time helping around in the temple and less time in regular classes. I still get to see a lot of Eagleeye, though, so it’s not like I’m really losing out.”  
  
“You don’t like meditation?”  
  
“It’s boring,” she grimaced. “Sitting there and counting and trying not to fall asleep. The tea helps.”  
  
“Huh,” Briar said. For some reason, he seemed very amused. “And that’s what the tea is for? Keeping them awake?”  
  
Zhaixu nodded. “More or less,” she said. “I’m just supposed to brew up a batch and then take it to the people in the class before the gong strikes the hour.”  
  
The gong sounded, and Zhaixu groaned, and hastily grabbed at the copper kettle, making sure her hands were protected. “Here goes,” she muttered, pouring out the hot water into the tea pot, and being sure to perform it with respect, though however Dedicate Zhao differentiated between respectful pouring and hasty pouring, Zhaixu never knew.  
  
“I’ll help you,” Briar decided, picking up the tray of cups with ease. He moved, Zhaixu realised, with a dancer’s grace. Or maybe a fighter’s. He certainly had the knife-scars to prove it.  
  
She nodded to him in thanks. “Just don’t say anything to them,” she instructed, carrying the teapot with her. “All we do is to stop by each person to offer them a cup of tea, wait for them to drink it, and then take the cups back on the tray. And we go to the novices first, rather than Dedicate Kingfisher.”  
  
Briar raised an eyebrow. “Seems rather inefficient,” he pointed out. “Tea’s bound to get cold by then.”  
  
“You’ll be surprised how many people claim to have uncontrollable leg spasms during meditation,” Zhaixu muttered, glaring at him.  
  
He shrugged in easy surrender. “Hey, I was just saying,” Briar grinned, hefting the tray. “Come on then. Time to make sure no one falls asleep.”  
  


* * *

  
  
As the days passed, they settled into a strange sort of wary rhythm. Briar Moss, it seemed, was content to bide his time at the temple, and Dedicate Lotusriver had not yet formally discharged him. Instead, he busied himself aiding the Dedicates in their various tasks, and, or so it seemed, following Zhaixu as she did the numerous duties that a punished novice was supposed to undertake.  
  
The Imperial Guard, as well, seemed—for the moment—satisfied with keeping watch on the temple, and waiting. What for, Zhaixu could guess. Briar went to speak with Honoured Starfire—what words the two of them had exchanged, Zhaixu didn’t know, but Honoured Starfire looked grim in the following days and ordered a renewed watch to be posted at the temple gates.  
  
This meant that all the Metal novices standing watch were far more advanced than Zhaixu—just a few months short of taking their vows at the next turning of the seasons—with Dedicates posted at the gate to keep an eye on them.  
  
Did Starfire think that the Imperial Guard would force the gates? Zhaixu couldn’t imagine. The thought of Living Circle neutrality being so thoroughly violated was horrifying; temples were supposed to be places of respect and reverence, not places of war.  
  
The Metal Dedicates, too, ramped up the training of the novices, and it was not uncommon for injured novices to be sent to the Water Temple for treatment. Zhaixu herself was pushed to her limits and beyond by Eagleeye, and was sent to see the healers when she missed several blocks, one after another, and her teacher’s staff cracked across her temple, and then her fingers and her collarbone.  
  
To her surprise, the healer attending her was none other than Briar.  
  
He _tsked_ at her injuries. “Should teach you to keep your fingers out of the way,” he admonished, as he reached for salve and started applying it to her fingers, his touch gentle.  
  
“I tried,” Zhaixu groused. “I was too busy trying not to get hit in the head. I didn’t know you were a healer.”  
  
“I’m not,” Briar said, cheerfully. “I’m a plant mage, remember? Any healing I do is with medicines, but my medicines are _very_ good, and I’ve been working with the stores here.”  
  
He dabbed some salve on her head too; she sighed with relief as the salve seemed to numb the constant throbbing she’d felt. “That’s good,” Zhaixu murmured.  
  
“Told you so.” He was understandably smug. “Come, let’s see that collarbone of yours.” He probed it carefully, his fingers gentle. “Well, looks like nothing’s broken. All the better for you. Just needs some salve and you’ll be fine. Guess your teacher wanted to be careful and make sure you had no serious ouches.”  
  
“And how’re you healing up?” she wanted to know.  
  
Briar shrugged. “Your healer—Lotusriver, was it?” Zhaixu nodded. “She does good work. I’ll be as good as new soon.”  
  
“And then?”  
  
He grinned, broadly. “What do you think?”  
  


* * *

  
  
She found Briar in the gardens on most days. Today, he was working on one of the mechanical pumps meant to distribute groundwater to the various garden plots by the Earth Temple.  
  
“Pass me that, would you?” he requested, acknowledging her presence and gesturing to the leftmost of several tools that lay on a cloth sheet on the muddy ground. “Thanks.”  
  
“What are you doing?” Zhaixu asked, curiously.  
  
“Your pump’s a bit clogged,” Briar said, easily. “Also, we used to use a slightly different system at Winding Circle—more efficient. Daj’ came up with it, actually. She’s a wonder at anything that involves metal, so I told Osmanthus that I’d see what I could do.”  
  
Surprisingly, Zhaixu thought, Osmanthus and Briar had, despite their rocky beginning, gotten on extremely well. Perhaps it was through their common love of plants. More than once, she’d walked in on them solemnly conversing about the types of soil the fireflower could be grown in, and if they needed to be moved into a greenhouse for the winter, and on the healing properties of arrowleaf. She’d listened in, surreptitiously, on that last one.  
  
He looked… _right_ this way, Zhaixu thought, with dirt on his hands, fiddling with the water pump, sitting cross-legged in the mud among the herbs, some of which had already begun to twitch and strain towards him.  
  
As if he’d come home, wherever his home was.  
  
He used the tool to force the pipe open, and then winced as a shower of water splashed over him. “All right,” Briar said, exasperated. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”  
  
He looked up at her and grinned. “Sure, why not? Daj’ walked me through it several times. I’ll probably be fine. Just take a while. Sure you want to watch me struggle with the pump?”  
  
Zhaixu shrugged. “Looks like the pump’s winning,” she observed.  
  
“Only for now,” Briar muttered. “Only for now.”  
  


* * *

  
  
The Fire Temple was more or less like the other temples, with the murals of the gods of fire: of Lord Lao, or Lao Blazeheart, of Shurri Firehair, of Olun Ashwalker. A few shrines at the sides of the temple depicted the lesser gods of fire.  
  
Pews lined the first half of the temple; the rest opened up into a large space, with the altar in the centre.  
  
The Fire Temple had never been large or grand; in fact, as far as Zhaixu was concerned, she’d always thought of it as a cozy, homely sort of space, with the scent of burning incense drifting softly on the air, and the heartfire that never went out.  
  
“What _is_ the heartfire?” Briar murmured, beside her, and she realised she’d spoken that last thought aloud.  
  
“The Fire Temple keeps hearthfires burning all day and night, in the temple itself,” she said, as an answer. “The coals smouldering beneath the altar, though? That’s the heartfire, because it’s the one that can’t ever go out. It’s the centre of the Fire Temple, and all lesser fires are lit by taking coals from the heartfire. It only goes out on the winter solstice, and then it’s lit at midnight for the next year.” She nodded to where the Fire novice on duty knelt before the altar. “There’s always one Fire novice at hand. His job is to make sure the heartfire doesn’t go out. Ever.”  
  
“Huh,” Briar said. “What’s the difference between the Fire Temple and the Metal Temple, though? Back where I come from, it’s Hakkoi the Smith and Shurri Firesword that are worshipped, not Shurri Firehair.”  
  
“And Lord Lao,” said an entirely different voice. Zhaixu started, and nearly dropped the offering basket she was carrying. “Be careful, Novice Fa,” Honoured Starfire said, calmly. “You are carrying offerings, after all.”  
  
Zhaixu bowed her head. “Sorry,” she muttered.  
  
“You could warn the girl before you sneak up on her, all sudden-like, you know,” Briar muttered.  
  
Honoured Starfire raised an eyebrow. “You mean you were not surprised?” he wanted to know.  
  
“Would it help if I told you you scared _both_ of us out of ten years’ growth?” Briar said, crossly.  
  
Starfire’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “Possibly,” he said, gravely. “It would, at least, make an old man feel better about his sneaking skills.”  
  
“And you haven’t been keeping up on those?”  
  
Starfire winked. “Some of us have had very colourful lives before we took our vows,” he said, calmly. “Close your mouth, Novice. You’re gaping.”  
  
She was. She had absolutely no idea that Honoured Starfire had led any sort of ‘colourful life’, as he’d put it. In fact, she hadn’t even thought about what kind of life he must’ve led before he had joined Verdant Circle. He’d seemed to have been here for at least as long as Zhaixu was. Longer, even.  
  
“In any case,” Starfire went on, “I couldn’t help but overhear your questions on the gods of fire. And as you may not be aware, I was a Fire Dedicate before I became the Dedicate Superior of Verdant Circle. I still return for the daily services and I still make offerings and burn incense to the gods of fire.” He looked pointedly at the offering basket that Zhaixu was carrying. “As I suppose you were planning on doing.”  
  
Zhaixu nodded. She wasn’t sure she could say anything.  
  
“Have pity on her, Honoured Starfire,” Briar said, grinning. “I doubt she’s used to dealing with such august company.” To Zhaixu, he said, “He’s all bark and less bite. You should know that, dealing with Osmanthus as you do."  
  
Starfire rolled his eyes. “We _do_ try to put a little healthy fear into our novices,” he murmured, coolly. “Some of them can be quite a handful, at their age. Nevertheless,” he gestured to the central altar. “Verdant Circle is more than the sum of its parts. As is Winding Circle. We divide the temples into elements, but the gods do not come neatly packaged into elements, as much as we might otherwise hope. Remember that Hakkoi the Smith is the god of volcanoes just as he is the patron of metalworkers, and that volcanoes are as much the province of the deep secrets of the earth as they are of fire.”  
  
“But the temples don’t look at it that way,” Briar observed. “Hakkoi isn’t venerated in the Earth Temple. The central gods are the Green Man and Mila of the Grain.”  
  
Starfire nodded. “Our limitations,” he said. “Not the limitations of the gods. The Fire and the Metal Temples overlap more so than the others, and it is to our detriment that both are…prickly, about what they see as an intrusion into their domain.”  
  
They walked, as Starfire spoke, until eventually, they stood before the altar. Zhaixu brought out the offerings: dried, fragrant herbs, mostly, from Osmanthus’s stores, and scattered them onto the coals. Then, she handed sticks of incense to Briar and Starfire, and one by one, they lit them and whispered prayers to the gods, and then set them into the holder.  
  
She wasn’t really a devotary of Lord Lao, but all the same, as the fragrant smoke wafted up to the ceiling of the temple, she prayed that Briar would find his way home to his sisters—to the one who knew how to make pumps, the one who worshipped Shurri Firesword and Hakkoi the Smith.

 

* * *

  
  
Zhaixu woke up.  
  
She wasn’t sure what had torn her out of sleep and back to awareness, until she realised it was the sound of steel clashing with steel, and that the temple gongs were pounding the alert.  
  
The dormitory was silent; the rest of the novices were supposed to be having meditation classes now, but Eagleeye had taken pity on her and let her sleep. Her heart pounding in her chest, Zhaixu snatched up her spear and ran for her muster point.  
  
The hallways of the temple were full of Metal and Fire Dedicates, racing to their muster points, preparing to defend their allocated areas. They moved purposefully, carrying weapons. None of them were afraid.  
  
Zhaixu wished she felt that way. But all she could think of was Briar, and that the Imperial Guard must have lost patience.  
  
She skidded to a stop, mid-stride.  
  
If the Imperial Guard was attacking, she realised, they’d be assaulting Verdant Circle from the gate. She remembered the houses from which they’d kept watch on Verdant Circle. There was no other direction from which they’d prefer to stage an attack.  
  
Knowing this, she changed directions and ran for the gate.  
  


* * *

  
  
“What are you doing here?” Briar demanded, tartly, as Zhaixu ran into the cluster of armed Dedicates and novices, grimly massing at the temple gates.  
  
“Protecting my home, what does it look like?” Zhaixu shot back.  
  
“Fa Zhaixu,” Eagleeye said, exasperatedly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”  
  
“Well, I am,” Zhaixu said. “It’s not right. They’re not supposed to be doing this.”  
  
Briar and Eagleeye exchanged a long, weary, meaningful look; as if they understood each other perfectly. Zhaixu did not.  
  
“Kaifei must’ve lost patience,” Eagleeye said, simply. “Or the Emperor did. It makes no difference, either way.” Dedicate Crow cried out as bolts from the repeating crossbows the Imperial Guards used tore through her, and collapsed to the paved ground, and was still. Juiren cried out; she was his teacher, and—despite knowing better—ran over to her.   
  
They shot him, too.  
  
Dedicate Falcon, on the other hand, remained cool, keeping low to present a smaller target to the Guard crossbows and then somehow managing to get a full draw on his recurve bow as he shot back at them.   
  
While he was slower at firing than the Imperial Guard’s crossbowmen, he was more accurate: every guardsmen who was shot by Falcon fell and did not rise again.  
  
On the other hand, Frostsilk was a blur of motion, her sword whipping about as she fought side by side with Swiftblade, aiming to prevent any of the Imperial Guard from setting foot on the temple compound. Novices Huiren and Kuifeng supported them, wielding their staves efficiently to make sure that none of Kaifei’s Guard could flank them.  
  
“What do we do?” Zhaixu murmured, feeling so helpless. Huiren and Kuifeng were among the best fighters the Metal Temple had produced; they excelled at all their classes, and were certain to take their Dedicate’s vows by the next turning of the seasons.  
  
She, on the other hand, was Fa Zhaixu, the novice who was always punished, who couldn’t keep her fingers from being beaten when she practised with her teacher.  
  
“They will not set foot here,” Eagleeye said, grimly. Zhaixu was not sure if Eagleeye was talking to her or to Briar. “No matter the cost.”  
  
Briar murmured, “I can help, you know. They’re fighting in a garden, of all things.”  
  
Eagleeye shook his head. “Not like this,” he said, leaning on his spear, as if for strength. “This is our temple. We defend this. Zhaixu, take him to where the cabbages go.”  
  
She nodded, understood his meaning. “Come,” she said, tugging on his sleeve. Briar followed, with a nod to Eagleeye. “Good luck,” he told Eagleeye. He understood, of course.  
  
“Gods go with you, Briar Moss,” Eagleeye said. He hefted his spear, and then joined the fight for the control of the temple gate.  
  


* * *

  
  
“This is where the cabbages go?” Briar raised an eyebrow at the passage deep in the cellars that lay underneath Verdant Circle.  
  
Zhaixu nodded. “We used to bring cabbages out by this route,” she explained. “Because the street used to be much narrower than it is now. This passage opens out on a wider avenue, closer to the marketplace.”  
  
“This is it, then,” Briar said.  
  
“It is.” She hesitated, thinking of that day in the Fire Temple, of the stick of incense she’d lit for him. “Gods go with you, Briar.”  
  
“And you,” he said, with a crooked grin. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me.”  
  
“We’re Verdant Circle,” Zhaixu said. “It’s what we’re supposed to do. Kaifei just hasn’t really gotten that message yet.”  
  
Briar snorted, began moving into the passageway. “Don’t count on that,” he warned.  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
He flashed her a last grin; one that lit up his features, and then, he was gone, moving further down the tunnel, until all that was left was the light from the lantern he carried, and then eventually, even that was gone.  
  
Zhaixu gazed after him for a few long moments and then locked and bolted the heavy wooden door, sealing the passageway shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a Goldenlake fic exchange, for the prompt "A fic about Living Circle Temples." I've taken the view that: A. the names/gods/goddesses of the Living Circle temples differ between the East and West, as do their practices (i.e. religion adapts itself to local practices), plus B. the division of the elements and all that don't reflect things inherent to the gods but rather, to their devotees. This influences how the Verdant Circle practices their religion.


End file.
